


Christmas Gift

by MusicLover19



Series: One-Shots [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Gen, Peter is nice, Stiles had to grow up too quickly, The pack isn't a real pack, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 07:02:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13118550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicLover19/pseuds/MusicLover19
Summary: Based off this prompt; "it’s Christmas and the pack is exchanging gifts and no one has gotten anything for Peter but it turns out Stiles did and he doesn’t know why but he spent weeks trying to figure out the best gift for this asshole."





	Christmas Gift

**Author's Note:**

> I started this last year, and then it got past Christmas so it went in my 'to work on' folder, and boom, here it is all done and dusted. Although I will warn you, I planned a happy funny story that just didn't happen, it is slightly feeling filled.  
> Enjoy and Happy Holidays!

“Merry Christmas to all and to all – wait no, I don’t like you,” Peter had announced to the room, dropping the handful of cards he had onto the floor before turning on his heel and leaving.

“Where is he going?” Stiles asked.

“Who cares,” Lydia grumbled. “Why did he even show up?” Scott asked with a frown.

“What about his presents?” Stiles asked, still looking at the door that Peter had disappeared from.

“Why would we have gotten him anything?” Isaac asked, honestly curious. “He’s not a good person.”

“You didn’t –” Stiles frowned at the people around them. “None of you got him a present?” He couldn’t believe the nerve of them. How could they? Sure, Peter was a questionable person, but to completely ignore him was beyond horrible. The worst part was the fact that Peter didn’t even seem surprised. He merely had walked into Derek’s loft, dropped off a handful of cards before walking right back out, no hint of an expectation of getting anything.

Stiles stood up, aware that he was getting annoyed over something that everyone else didn’t care about, which only added to his annoyance. Sure, most of the pack didn’t _know_ Peter, he was just that strange person that tended to linger on the sidelines, smirking and offering such sarcastically borderline helpful information for them all.

“Did you get him something?” he asked, stomping over to Derek.

“We don’t –”

“Did. You. Get. Your. Uncle. A. Gift?” Stiles growled.

“We don’t do that,” Derek said stiffly.

Stiles snapped his mouth shut, stopping him from yelling at Derek. Stiles went to the cards that Peter had dropped off and found one addressed to each of them. Throwing the rest of them back on the table, Stiles found his own and opened the envelope. Peter had written him a card, and there was a $50 note.

“I am leaving to find him, I am going to thank him for the card and I am going to give him the gift I got for him,” Stiles hissed. “You should be ashamed of yourselves,” he added, before storming out of Derek’s loft. He had a lot more that he had wanted to say, so many different ways that he knew would manage to cut into their conscience and leave only guilt behind, but it was close to Christmas. Stiles couldn’t in good conscious hurt every person this close to a _happy_ time, sure, half of the pack should have known and thought about how it felt to be an outsider, how it felt to be ignored and hated for just being alive. Stiles certainly had an idea and he had thought that it was obvious to include Peter, if only for the first time to make sure he didn’t feel so depressingly alone. It didn’t even have to be anything big or expensive, as long as it had been something. At the very least, Stiles had expected more from Derek, they were _family_ after all, that had to mean something to both of them.

Stiles had aggressively prepared the present he had chosen, he had been searching for at least a month before he had given up and admitted defeat. There was nothing in any shop; both physical and online, that seemed to fit Peter’s personality. It led to a very frustrating search before Stiles had finally settled on an idea that would then take him a few weeks to finalise. Stiles had been looking forward to seeing everyone’s reaction to what he had gotten Peter, more so, he was happily awaiting Peter’s disgust to it all. Stiles wasn’t the most Christmas-y of people, shocking he knew, but he just didn’t have it in him to enjoy it anymore, the magic was gone and in its place was left nothing.

As if Peter had been listening, he was stood by the jeep, waiting.

“You can return what you got,” Peter said as Stiles drew into hearing distance. “There was no need.”

“No need my ass,” Stiles grumbled. “You are getting this present and you are going to be damn happy about it because they are a bunch of jerks.” If Stiles had looked over to Peter instead of focusing on his jeep as he unlocked it, he might have caught the ghost of a smile that graced Peter’s face. “Get in, it’s at my house. Don’t argue,” he added quickly, “you were happy to sit there when you wanted to find Derek.”

“This isn’t a life or death situation,” Peter drawled, not making an effort to protest as Stiles got into his jeep, waiting for Peter to join.

“It could be,” Stile pointed out blandly. “Get in.”

“Your scary voice needs work,” Peter pointed out, he opened the passenger seat. The jeep was a lot cleaner than he had expected. Last time Peter had been in it, there was his gym bag in the back, a few crumpled papers, and the odd remnants of his take-out stops on the way home. This time, Peter didn’t see anything. It was as if Stiles hadn’t been using it, or that his priorities had changed, it was strange, the neatness of the jeep when you thought about Stiles. Although, maybe not, Peter knew that the jeep had belonged to his mother, so perhaps keeping it clean _was_ the norm for him, treasuring something that was not his, keeping that connection as open as possible. It would explain his reluctance to get rid of it or to do major repairs that would replace parts.

“ – cannot believe it,” Stiles was muttering under his breath. “Surely Erica knows what it’s like to feel rejected, she lived her whole school life like that for crying out loud, just because she has boobs and confidence does not excuse shitty behaviour, and Isaac, he needs strangling with his scarves, yes he was abused and that’s horrible, but surely _that_ would make him remember to be nice to people, even though the bite gave him jackass qualities as well. Scott – ok Scott doesn’t think on the best of days but still, I expected more. Derek – fucking _Derek_ ,” Stiles growled, much to Peter’s amusement. “How dare he? Does family mean nothing? Surely losing all of it would make you appreciate what’s left even more? Especially if you felt guilty because you gave all the family secrets away. I don’t give a shit if you don’t like your creepy psychotic uncle, he is still your goddamn family, and you both only have each other left since you let Cora run off to fuck knows where –”

Peter decided to tune Stiles out, his rambles had taken a darker turn. The ruthlessness was something that Peter did find fascinating, it always hid so well around the others, the façade of a hyperactive teen that could do no real harm. The anger bubbling beneath was what drew Peter in, it made him wonder what caused it, especially in someone so young. It could be a result of losing his mother, Peter knew how emotionally devastating losing someone close to you could be.

“As amusing as it is for you to defend my honour, you didn’t need to,” Peter said, pulling himself from his musing and Stiles from his rant.

“Pack means family,” Stiles said firmly. “Family means no one is left behind or forgotten.”

“I think you’re thinking of a different word,” Peter shook his head. It was _cute_ how much stock Stiles put into that rag-tag group. They would never be a true pack, not really. They might manage to fumble through their life, but the feeling of safety and comfort just wouldn’t be there for them, not in Beacon Hills, and not together as they were.

“Pack should mean family,” Stiles amended, it wasn’t as if he didn’t know the issues with the group. He had seen them, but he was powerless. “It’s inside,” Stiles said, pulling into his driveway. There was no sight of his dad’s car, it was more than likely he’d be putting in extra hours now, with Christmas being so close, it was admirable, letting the other deputies have the time off with their families.

“Lead the way,” Peter said.

Stiles nodded. He shut the jeep down, locked it up and opened the house, aware of Peter’s half-hearted gaze. In the past, Stiles would have been wary, concerned about letting Peter into his house when he was alone, concerned about the quietness of the man and just generally concerned because it was _Peter_. Instead, there was an almost shared notion of acceptance for what was happening. Nothing _needed_ to be said, and Stiles didn’t feel like he had to watch himself in case he did something ‘evil’, mainly because Peter wouldn’t care in the slightest.

Walking into the house, Stiles had a moment of panic at just how bare the place was. There was no decoration visible for the door. When Stiles had been younger, his dad and him would take the time to decorate the house together, which had fallen out of habit. Stiles had continued on, making sure the house looked Christmas-y, but as time passed, he just felt like there was no real point to it.

“This is a jolly place,” Peter noted, glancing around. He took a few steps more than Stiles had and noted the small Christmas tree on the kitchen counter. It was fake, one of the artificial ones that had lights in the branches and there were only a handful of ornaments on it, no topper.

“It’s hard to get in the Christmas spirit when you’re alone,” Stiles shrugged. “Dad works most of the time because crime doesn’t stop on the holidays.” Peter had a sick feeling that Stiles had been told those exact words before if the slight monotone repetition was anything to go by. “We exchange presents before he leaves but I’m normally alone or down at Scott's. I prefer being home but Mama McCall is nice enough to offer me a place with them.”

“Is that where you’ll be this year?” Peter asked, keeping his tone level. There was no need to pity the teen, and all that would do is create a tension between them that didn’t need to be there.

“No,” Stiles said after a sharp inhale. “After she found out about all this and after what happened earlier on, it just doesn’t feel right to impose. She says it’s no problem but everyone is still a little uneasy around me.”

Stiles didn’t need to look over to see the calculating gaze on Peter’s face, he could feel the intensity of it. He knew that Peter would understand, it was part of the reason Peter had stuck around for them to see what he had done, sure it was just a card with some money but it was much more than he needed to do. There was something suffocating being in a room with people that so clearly didn’t like or trust you, especially when it was meant to be a happy time.

“Just wait here,” Stiles sighed. He didn’t wait for a reply as he made his way up to his room.

Peter nodded, even though Stiles didn’t catch it in his haste to leave. Slowly, Peter moved closer to the Christmas tree, frowning at it. Stiles was still young, he should have been vibrating with excitement, ready to tear into his presents and live his life. Not this. Then again, since when had Stiles been a typical teenager that Peter had known?

Reaching out, Peter hit the switch that should have turned the Christmas tree lights on, only nothing happened. Frowning more, Peter looked, it was plugged in, the lights just didn’t seem to work, maybe a faulty wire. Did they know? Would Stiles’ already miserable Christmas be ruined even more without the lights? Or would Stiles not even bother to try them, assuming that it wouldn’t matter? It made Peter recall his own past Christmas’, before the fire they had been a large affair, Talia taking pride in how the house looked, and the joy on the children’s faces when they saw it all. She would urge Peter to step in, magically make Stiles’ Christmas an experience that he will love. It had been Peter and her who had planned the layouts every year, making it different and new for the pack, and it had been worth it every time, seeing the excitement and joy each time Santa made a treasure hunt, or even when the presents were placed under and around the tree but with all new decorations that had been brought by the jolly fellow.

It would be a fruitless adventure, Stiles was too old and too jaded to fall for something like that. Too cynical to believe it was a nice gesture and too proud to accept it.

Peter turned as steps came down the stairs. All too soon, Stiles appeared and thrust the package he was holding over. It was decorated with small cartoon style Santa’s, ones that were climbing up into a chimney, ones that were waving and even ones that stood beside, what Peter assumed was Rudolph. Carefully, Peter took it, turning it over in his hands. The wrapping wasn’t expertly done, but it was done well enough that the contents were hidden. There was a softness to it, making Peter dread finding a novelty article of clothing that was so commonly given out.

“Just before you open it,” he said, drawing Peter’s attention back onto him. In his hands, Stiles held the card Peter had given him, or rather left for him back at the loft. “This is too much, I can’t accept it, and really you’ll go bankrupt if you do this.”

Peter didn’t know if he should be amused. He had expected this.

“I won’t go bankrupt,” Peter said calmly. “Trust me, and you got the second highest amount –” Stiles’ mouth opened instantly to protest. “If I didn’t mean it, I wouldn’t have,” Peter pointed out, effectively shutting every protest down. “Treat yourself to a game, they are getting more expensive by the day it seems, or even get a horrendous shirt that you want.”

“What did the others get?” Stiles asked, still fiddling with the card.

“Twenty,” Peter admitted. “Derek got the same, along with an heirloom, something of his mother’s.”

“Ok,” Stiles said quietly. “That’s good. He’ll like that. You’re a good family member.” Stiles didn’t need to add the ‘unlike some’ rant that he was tempted by. “You can open it.”

“You really didn’t –”

“Just open it you jerk,” Stiles huffed, a smile on his face. He felt back on the same ground, they had both had their overly emotional moment.

Shaking his head, Peter tore the paper delicately, taking pride and amusement out of making Stiles wait. Under the green paper, there was a mixture of red and pink that made Peter pause. It was wool, and it had Stiles’ scent all over it. Unable to stop his confusion, he unravelled it, moving the paper onto the side.

“I knitted you a sweater, it’s nothing special, just two colours because that’s as advanced as I can do,” Stiles grinned. “You might need to wash –” the words failed him as Peter took his coat off, pulling the sweater down over his head.

“Thank you,” Peter smiled, and it was a smile that made his whole face seem to glow. Stiles’ mouth was still agape, he hadn’t expected to see Peter wear it at all, at most he had expected a disgusted look as he moved it aside to leave.

“You’re welcome,” Stiles said after a moment.

“I’m about,” Peter said suddenly, almost wanting to facepalm at his own stupidity, Stiles _made_ him a present and all his common sense went flying out of the window, “if you want company.” He didn’t specify on Christmas, even though he knew that Stiles understood. He might not be able to surprise Stiles and make it a Christmas to remember, but he did want to offer some friendly companionship if he wanted it.

“I – I think I’d like that,” Stiles admitted. He knew that Peter wouldn’t offer anything lightly, and he didn’t even care about the possible repercussions, he just didn’t want to be alone. Stiles response earnt him another smile, and Stiles had a fleeting moment of wondering just how the pack would react to Peter smiling and wearing a poorly made sweater, maybe he would find out sometime.


End file.
